


Attendants

by FoxDragon



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Exhibitionism, M/M, Post BoFA, idk - Freeform, inspired by cold meds, sorta exhibitionism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 06:35:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3371444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FoxDragon/pseuds/FoxDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some of the things that Bilbo had to get used to as Consort Under The Mountain took more adjusting to than others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Attendants

**Author's Note:**

> I srsly don't even know. This was inspired by a combination of cold meds, a very hot bath, and the vague memory of some history class somewhere when it was mentioned that way back when, royalty were always attended by someone, regardless of the time of day or what they were doing.
> 
> So this happened. 
> 
> My beta, The fantastic Isimun, insists it's actually good and I should post it, so here it is.
> 
> I think she might be wrong, but I also sometimes think my cat likes me, so what do I know?
> 
> Aside from I need more cold meds. 
> 
> Or possibly less.
> 
> I'm stopping now. I swear.

Being Consort Under The Mountain to Thorin Oakenshield, King Under The Mountain, had meant becoming accustomed to accepting as normal many things which most gentle hobbits generally would not consider ‘normal’ in any sense of the word. Being decked out in fine jewelry and rare cloth nearly at all times had taken quite some getting used to, as well as being constantly bowed to by dwarves, men and even elves alike. 

He liked to think that he had become something of a natural at listening to the court, making small talk with various nobles, and providing a voice of reason in the milder of disputes constantly arising between these lords or those ladies, to say nothing of the almost childlike bickering Thorin and Thranduil were prone too. He liked to think he had adapted well to the strange and unexpected challenges of becoming part of the royal family, and really most of the challenges he had faced had not even been too difficult, especially when held against riddling a dragon. But some things were more difficult to accept than others. 

It was the attendants that took the most getting used to.

They were _everywhere_.

At all times. 

_All_ times.

Thorin had explained to him early on that being the king meant never being alone, not truly. There was always a guard, an attendant, a courtier, someone around at all times. Bilbo just hadn’t realized how _literal_ that warning had been.

Because hobbits were not generally shy or discrete people, but there were some things that were not done in the sight of others. Most grooming was generally completed in private, perhaps only with the closest of family. Dressing was certainly not something that one had business conversations during, and yet most mornings found both he and Thorin sorting through their daily wear with an attendant each, at least, and Balin or any other of council members droning at them about one thing or another, completely unconcerned by any lack of dress.

Anything to do with bathing or a toilet were strictly private among hobbits, and his bladder had needed a steep learning curve to comfortably attend its functions while one of the many blank faced royal attendants looked after their own chores of keeping all corners of the royal chambers spotless.

But even that had not prepared him for the shock the first time, panting and layered in sweat and still mentally numb from the afterglow of a rather fantastic orgasm, he had rolled to find a cloth to clean himself with, and found himself being handed a fresh hand towel by the usual chambermaid.

There had been several long, frustrating conversations after that. With Thorin, with Balin, with Dis and even Dori. He had ranted, withheld sex (not that it was difficult, as the thought of having someone watching them do _that_ had not been a particularly exciting thought) and even begged and pleaded. Thorin, for his part, had done his best to minimize the amount of staff that were assigned to the royal chambers, but even the King could not completely discard centuries of law and tradition.

The King was never alone, and neither was his consort.

Arcing his back against the wet, warm tiles of the truly extensive royal bathing chambers, Bilbo let his head fall to the side. There was an attendant, of course. She was very carefully Not Looking at them, at her king, nude and wet from the bath, water sloshing violently around his calves as thrust into the slick welcoming heat of soft hobbit consort. Bilbo, curls plastered to his forehead and neck from the moisture legs hitched high around Thorin’s broad waist, groaning and gasping his pleasure to echo on the smooth polished tiles. She was very carefully tending to the towels she was stacking on the shelf barely an arm’s reach away from the bath, the hem of her skirt was wet from the water that was splashing over the sides thanks to them.

He briefly considered that she was probably jealous.

Likely she wished she were where he was now, all of Thorin’s might and majesty bearing down to leave him breathless and keening for more, fingers slipping for a grip on slicked stone until they found their purchase when shifted to wet, hairy shoulders.

With a deep hoarse growl Thorin started to come, thrusting even through his finish as his face twisted in a macabre effigy of a snarl, before he slipped from Bilbo’s body, knee’s giving way in the sudden lax of completion. He slid back down into the water of the bath, sliding down until his face was level with his consort’s waist, and took him into his mouth. Bilbo screwed his eyes shut in sinuous pleasure as one hand twisted into the thick whorls of Thorin’s hair and words were driven from his consciousness.

He took a shuddering breath, then gasped another moments later when he recalled breathing was something one did with regularity, then grit his teeth, pulling mercilessly at his husband’s hair as his own finish was swallowed down with an appreciative hum.

For several moments his thoughts were blank. He could feel the steady heave of Thorin, still panting from his own exertions, against his thigh. Water dripped steady somewhere in the chambers, the air still heavy from steam almost too thick to breath.

He found himself looking back toward the towel shelf. 

She was gone. 

He was not surprised. 

There was movement by the door to the chamber but it was just the guard, shifting his weight to avoid soreness in one leg or the other.

He found himself stroking Thorin’s head as his husband nuzzled the side of his leg and nodded halfheartedly as he murmured something about finishing their bath properly this time.

The king and his consort were never _truly_ alone, but he had learned it was really just one more thing to get used to when one was a part of the royal family.

**Author's Note:**

> ._.


End file.
